Butternut is fine, acorn is just dandy, and I can even get down with a little kabocha, but nothing makes my heart grow wings and soar to the nearest farmer's market like the thought of fresh pumpkin. Nothing brings man closer to nature than a pleasant romp through the local pumpkin patch. And with only a week until Halloween, I would say your chances for gourd glory are growing slim.
I typically prefer my pumpkin flesh roasted and slathered in a little butter or olive oil, but if you have three stomachs and a huge set of horns, I guess it really doesn't make any difference. One man's carving is another cow's scarfing.
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